


like fog in the sunlight

by jaystrifes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Angst but really soft angst, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Life, kinda? it's only vaguely referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaystrifes/pseuds/jaystrifes
Summary: Alfred goes out for a night with coworkers. Arthur decides to stay in, but starts to regret it once loneliness creeps into the space Alfred normally occupies in their apartment. He doesn't get jealous, of course. Why would he be jealous?





	like fog in the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [data_jpg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/data_jpg/gifts).



> Written for a prompt: "You know I only have eyes for you."

Arthur did not get jealous.

He did not get jealous when Alfred sat in meetings behind closed doors with other people at the office. He did not get jealous when coworkers joined him and Alfred at their table in the breakroom and interrupted their conversations. He did not get jealous when they invited Alfred out for drinks on Friday nights, even though Friday nights were date nights.

At least, he wasn’t _supposed_ to get jealous. Especially given the context.

All other times in the past, Alfred had turned down the offers to hang out at the local sports bar with the guys from work. They always extended the invitation to Arthur, too, but he could barely stand the lot of them for the standard 8 hours a day, 5 days a week.

On their date nights, he and Alfred typically went out somewhere together: to a restaurant, to the cinema, to the candy store (when Alfred pleaded like a child). More than that, the weekends were Arthur’s chance to spend time alone with his husband, his time to sleep in late, wake up and putter around the kitchen—Alfred always insisted on cooking breakfast, but Arthur could at least help fix the coffee and tea—and snuggle up on the couch after they’d finished their food. His time to rest his head on Alfred’s chest, to enjoy Alfred’s hand stroking his hair, to hear Alfred’s heartbeat steady against his ear.

Frankly, Arthur resented anything or anyone that attempted to barge into that precious time they shared.

But this was just _one_ Friday night. Alfred had even asked him ahead of time, and Arthur had, regrettably, given him the okay. There was nothing he wouldn’t agree to if it would make Alfred happy.

By the time he started having second thoughts, Alfred was already out the door.

Surely Arthur wasn’t so desperately attached that he couldn’t let Alfred out of his sight for a single evening. That wouldn’t be healthy.

So he tried to make the most of his time alone in the apartment. He poured a cup of tea from the kettle, picked up the book he’d been reading this week, and sat himself down in the corner of the couch to finish both.

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Arthur never had any trouble reading on the couch, even when Alfred sat next to him with a gaming headset on and played Call of Duty; his wild shouts of victory only distracted Arthur occasionally, and it wasn’t the noise so much as the joy of glancing up to see the pure triumph on Alfred’s face, the steely determination in his eyes when he started a new round, the way his barely-noticeable buck teeth pressed down on his bottom lip when he concentrated.

Tonight, the total lack of noise tonight was what disturbed Arthur from his book. He kept looking up from the page, at the door, at the clock on the wall, and when he tried to get into the story he had to go back and reread the previous paragraph because he had only skimmed it before. It made for slow progress, and eventually Arthur tired of it. Setting the novel aside, he turned his full attention to his tea, which had gone cold sitting on the end table. He drank it anyways, if only to have something to do while he sat there with his thoughts.

Even the quiet weekend mornings Arthur so dearly treasured were never quiet in the true sense of the word. Alfred was just loud by nature, always dropping things, swearing at the top of his lungs, getting excited or frustrated in equal measure, to the point of comical over-exaggeration. He was like an exclamation point given human form, or perhaps more like someone accidentally held the key down for too long and filled a whole word document with exclamation points, and out came Alfred F. Jones. Arthur wouldn’t have him any other way.

Besides, Arthur carried enough quiet in his soul for the both of them, enough to cloak them in one big blanket of fog and stillness, leaving a smooth tranquility over moments that weren’t necessarily low-volume.

He never would have imagined that he’d complain of too much quiet, though. As a child, he was always a bit of a bookworm, and he remained fairly reserved throughout his grade school years. It wasn’t until university that he came out of his shell, in the way of a hermit crab searching for a new home to wear.

Thankfully, Arthur’s brief rebellious phase resulted only in a couple embarrassing photos, an atrocious streak of dyed neon green hair (thank god _that_ was behind him), a long-standing taste for rock and roll, and a permanent six-string tattoo that Alfred teased him mercilessly about the first time he removed enough of Arthur’s clothes to see it. It could have been worse.

In the end, he figured he had ended up much the same as he’d begun, an introvert through and through. It was a small wonder how he’d been drawn to Alfred despite the man’s boisterous, over-the-top personality. Or maybe it was because of exactly that—opposites attract was what people always said, wasn’t it?

And that was exactly what was missing now. Alfred’s ever-present hustle and bustle through the apartment, his clumsy feet knocking into things, his mumbling and thinking out loud. Everything was absolutely, terribly still.

Arthur sighed and stared forlornly into the bottom of his empty mug. He briefly considered trading it for a glass of ale, but no. Alfred would advise him not to if he were here. Their big drinking days were behind them; they only kept alcohol in the apartment for special occasions.

A small, bitter part of him piped up about how Alfred was probably having a beer or two right now, that surely it would only be fair for Arthur to indulge as well. He did his liver a favor and told that part to can it. Alfred held his liquor a lot better than Arthur, anyways. It took barely anything at all to get Arthur slurring his words and falling all over himself, and he often blacked out after a few shots of something strong. Not only that, he was the worst kind of drunk, the kind that starts out dancing on the bar but ends up covered in vomit and crying his eyes out and babbling miserably.

Not tonight, he vowed. It wasn’t a good idea, especially when he was already feeling down.

He willed himself to be proactive and get up, take his cup to the sink, do _something_ to make himself stop thinking about Alfred’s absence. Instead, he picked up the remote, since it was within easy reach, and turned on the TV. Of course, there was nothing on except one of Alfred’s favorite movies.

The bluetooth speakers on the shelf caught his wandering eye. Alfred used them more than Arthur did, but now he had the opportunity to play whatever he wanted. Something soothing, a Bach piano concerto. Or maybe country music, because even though he didn’t like it, it made him think of Alfred.

No, he was going to play something for him and only him. Arthur smiled and scrolled through the albums on his phone.

Sex Pistols? Sex Pistols.

__

Alfred came home to Arthur dancing in the living room in ripped skinny jeans, a green flannel shirt hanging off one shoulder and leaving a considerable stretch of pale skin between it and the thin strap of his black tank top. One of his favorite British punk rock bands blared from the speakers on the shelf—Alfred couldn’t always tell them apart, and kinda thought of them all as edgier versions of One Direction (only in his head now, after Arthur stopped speaking to him for almost a whole day when Alfred voiced the thought aloud).

It was loud enough that Alfred was surprised there hasn’t been a noise complaint by now. Loud enough that Arthur apparently didn’t even hear him come in. He jumped up and down for a full 360 degrees, eyelids pinched shut as he yelled out the words and played an air guitar in time with the song. It was on his next spin after that that he finally opened his eyes and noticed Alfred standing there with a faint grin on his face.

Arthur turned pink. He fumbled for his phone and hastily shut the music off, but kept his gaze on the screen, twitching his thumbs over it like he was actually doing something. Drawing attention to his hands was a mistake, only making Alfred see that Arthur was wearing his fingerless leather gloves too, the ones with spikes on the knuckles. Alfred coughed into one fist to cover up his snicker.

“So,” he said, “I leave for the afternoon and you dig out your old college clothes? The cat -” He willed himself to keep a straight face and probably failed. “Cat’s away and the mice will play? Artie’s ready to party when the old ball’n’chain’s not around?”

“Listen,” Arthur started, no doubt ready to launch into a tirade to defend himself and cover up his embarrassment.

A step closer and a pull on Arthur’s waist was all it took to interrupt. Alfred looked down at him with a slanting grin. He’d never get tired of the way Arthur’s breath hitched when Alfred surprised him like that.

“I’m not complaining. You still look good in ’em, babe.”

Arthur hmphed quietly and muttered, “Damn right I do.”

Alfred let go and started to move away, but Arthur clung tighter to his chest, so he stayed where he was, bemused. Arthur was always affectionate with him, sure, but there was something a little different here, something with teeth, like if anyone dared separate him from Alfred right now Arthur would scratch their eyes out. It was cute.

“Even if they are a little outdated now.”

“Hey!”

Arthur shoved him lightly, and in response Alfred wrapped him up in a bear hug, holding him up off the ground in spite of Arthur’s squirming. Even though he kept demanding for Alfred to put him down, Alfred caught him smiling. Instead of doing what he was told, Alfred carried Arthur all the way to the bedroom and tossed him down on the bed, peppering his face and neck with kisses until Arthur finally managed to wiggle free.

“You’re so ticklish,” Alfred teased, crawling farther up the bed to catch Arthur.

“I am not.”

“You are so,” he said in a serious, low whisper against Arthur’s lips that didn’t match the statement at all.

It was priceless, every time, just to see his reaction when Alfred made the sudden switch from funny to sexy: the dilated pupils, the red cheeks, the short little breath that escaped him like he’d been sucker-punched. Alfred wanted to bottle that and drink it up. (That didn’t really make much sense. He guessed he was a little tipsy after all.)

Before Alfred could close the final distance and kiss him, Arthur murmured, “You need a shower. You smell like the bar.”

“It can wait, can’t it? I know you missed me…”

Arthur didn’t respond except to firmly grab and hold the hand that had been creeping up his thigh, keeping Alfred from distracting him further. His lips were pursed, like he was holding himself back from giving in, from confirming the assertion. He didn’t really need to, because Alfred already knew he was right, but still, he wanted Arthur to open up and say it.

“I really missed you, a whole lot,” he tried instead, with more sincerity than sin this time.

“I missed you too,” Arthur admitted.

“So…?” The end of his question tapered upwards hopefully. The implication was clear enough. Alfred could have left the rest unsaid. He didn’t. “Can we fuck?”

Arthur gave him the judgmental eyebrows-raised look. Alfred fired back with his best sad puppy eyes. For once, Arthur didn’t succumb to it.

“Shower,” he repeated.

Alfred quickly came up with a counter-offer. “Shower with me?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah! That’s compromise right there. We’re so good at being married, honey.”

Arthur couldn’t argue with that one. He kissed Alfred’s forehead and smoothed back his cowlick, to no avail. “We are,” he agreed, sitting up and rolling Alfred to the side. “The sooner we shower, the sooner you get what you want.”

Alfred stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Stop trying to make it sound like I’m the only one. You want it too. Always.” He started to lean in again, but Arthur stopped him with a hand against his face, squeezing his cheeks together to give him fish lips. It didn’t stop Alfred from mumbling, “I’m so irresistible that you want me in you every second, minute, hour —”

Arthur covered Alfred’s mouth with one hand, grabbed him by his bomber jacket, and hauled him up off the bed, steering him in the direction of the bathroom door.

__

Arthur was a big fan of Alfred’s propensity to cuddle after sex, but he was a bigger fan of hygiene. He had to take care of his nightly routine and clean up a little; in all honesty, he could have gone for another shower, but he was just too tired.

By the time he turned off the bathroom light and crawled back into bed, he worried Alfred might have already fallen asleep, but as soon as he laid down, Alfred pulled him closer, one arm snug around his waist. Arthur had once made the observation that he was the adult replacement for Alfred’s childhood teddy bear, and Alfred hadn’t exactly argued otherwise. It was a role he was happy to fill, though. Alfred radiated warmth, and the slow pattern of his breathing could soothe Arthur to sleep even on the most restless nights.

“You never asked how my afternoon was,” Alfred mumbled against Arthur’s hair.

“It’s not my fault you tried to flirt me to death from practically the moment you set foot through the door.”

“Couldn’t help myself. Just missed you.”

Arthur could sometimes pinpoint the exact moments when his heart melted into even more of a gooey puddle for Alfred. This was one of those moments. He hugged Alfred’s arm and settled back against him, pressing a kiss to his hand.

“How was it, then?”

“Pretty fun, actually.” Arthur felt the bed shift beneath Alfred’s weight as he propped himself up on his elbow to talk. “Had a few drinks and complained about work with everyone else. Got to know Ivan a little better.”

“Ivan?”

“Braginsky. The new Russian dude in sales who you think is kinda intimidating?”

“Oh, that Ivan.”

“Yeah. That guy really likes his vodka! Honestly I was a little scared he might get alcohol poisoning or something, but he just kept chugging it like it was nothing. Not even cocktails or anything, just straight vodka. What a legend.”

Arthur made a noncommittal grunt. “Hm.”

“He invited me over to play some video games, but I told him I had to get home. Might be fun to hang out with him sometime outside of work, though.”

Arthur kept quiet and tried to quell the roiling sensation of jealousy in his gut. It was so _stupid_ and selfish and he didn’t want to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. He didn’t need to make Alfred feel guilty over this, Alfred hadn’t done anything wrong, but still the insecurity had carved out a small, dark space for itself in Arthur’s chest.

“You okay?” Alfred rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder, waiting for a response.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno, just seems like something’s off.”

Arthur breathed in and let it out slowly. “I missed you,” he murmured. At least it was half the truth.

Alfred gently turned him over so that they laid on their sides, facing each other, his hand lingering on Arthur’s cheek. Arthur lowered his gaze from Alfred’s face, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and tried to focus on the mark he’d left high up on Alfred’s neck instead.

He hadn’t even meant to, really, or if he did, it was only subconsciously. Even so, there was something immensely satisfying about the sight, the reddish bruise ridged slightly above the skin. If anyone saw, they’d know for sure that Alfred was taken. Was it really okay to be pleased about it? Everything about this was so conflicting—Arthur _knew_ his worry was unfounded in the first place, he shouldn’t have been overreacting like this, and yet he still felt so desperate to reaffirm his place in Alfred’s life.

Drawing in a deep breath to try to force the panic down, Arthur turned his face and pressed his forehead to Alfred’s chest, wishing he could just hide from everything.

“Hey, look at me.” Alfred tilted Arthur’s chin up towards him. “You know you can talk to me, baby. About anything.”

“I just…” Arthur exhaled slowly. “I guess I’m just, not used to change, after being married for four years. This afternoon reminded me how lonely I am whenever you’re not around.”

“Artie…”

“But that’s—that’s something I have to deal with myself. It’s not your fault, Al. I mean, you should be able to go out and have a good time, even without me. Even with that Braginsky guy.”

“Arthur,” Alfred said softly, thumb stroking over Arthur’s cheek. “It’s okay to feel how you feel.”

“But—”

“Shh, listen. I love you. I love spending time with you more than spending time with anyone else, and honestly? I spent half the night wishing you were there with me. Yeah, it’s nice being out with the guys, but they’re not _you_. You’re so, so special to me.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again in quiet surrender. He felt something warm on his face when he blinked, and found that he’d started crying at some point. Alfred wiped the tears away and kissed Arthur’s forehead with the most tender smile.

“Besides, you know I only have eyes for you. There’s nobody out there who even comes close to everything you are to me, and there never will be. I mean that.”

Arthur flung his arms around Alfred as best as he could with the two of them already pressed together in such a close hug. Alfred let out a surprised woof of a laugh at being pushed all the way down on his back, and Arthur could feel Alfred’s smile against his lips when he kissed him. When Arthur pulled away, only by a couple of inches, he saw Alfred’s blue eyes sparkling and found himself awed, not for the first time, by the depth of the well of joy and trust and optimism in his husband. Alfred made things seem so simple and right that no matter how much of a mood Arthur had worked himself into, the problem deflated as gently as a hot air balloon. Like fog dissipating under the warmth of the sun.

“I don’t know how I ever got so lucky,” he murmured, brushing a wayward strand of hair from Alfred’s face.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty great catch,” Alfred said cheekily.

As much as Arthur wanted to roll his eyes or chide him for skipping over the point, Alfred’s grin was too infectious to be even a little miffed at. He just shook his head slightly and tried not to let himself smile just yet.

“Hey, I’m serious, Al.”

Alfred brought Arthur’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, keep going.”

Arthur settled down, his head resting on Alfred’s chest, and paused for a moment to find the words he wanted. “You make me happier than anything, you know that, right? You brighten my life every day you’re in it and I never knew I could fall so hard for anyone, but I’ve been falling for you ever since we met and I still am.”

Alfred ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, rubbing a soothing pattern with them that made Arthur sigh blissfully. He was getting sleepy now that he’d finally calmed down, but he needed to finish his thought.

“You’re the love of my life,” he said softly, “but you’re also too good of a man for me to try to keep you all to myself. Who else out there is going to help little old ladies cross the street?”

Arthur could feel the rumble of Alfred’s laugh against his ear. “I love you, Arthur. Come with me next time I go, okay?”

“Okay,” Arthur agreed peaceably. “But for tonight, just us?”

Alfred gathered Arthur closer, arranging him more comfortably. “Just us.”

Their breathing synced up like second nature, and they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I didn't intend to post Hetalia on main in the year of our lord 2k19...smh I haven't even watched this anime in like 6 years but I still love usuk. Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.


End file.
